Bliss
by Kirmon64
Summary: TFA:: Maybe this was wrong, and maybe he really should be jealous or angry or both, but Jetstorm couldn't bring himself to care. Jetstorm/Jetfire, Jetfire/ReadAndSee :D


**Title:** Bliss  
**Genre:** Um. PWP? XDD  
**Rating:** R for Robot Sex :D  
**Disclaimer:** Transformers belongs to HasTak and stuff.  
**Summary:** Maybe this was wrong, and maybe he really should be jealous or angry or both, but Jetstorm couldn't bring himself to care.

This had waaay more plot when I was planning it out, I swear! XD  
The main reason for writing this was to see if I could somehow plausibly shoehorn my OTP into TFA-verse... I think I did pretty well :P

* * *

They are alone.

Neither of them are entirely sure of where Sentinel Prime or Jazz or the rest of the crew are, and they know that they're supposed to be on monitor duty, but they don't particularly care right now. They are, after all, more than slightly preoccupied with... other matters.

Their current location is the bridge - which is exactly where they're supposed to be, except for the fact that it's Sentinel's chair that they're both in - the only one on the bridge big enough to hold them both comfortably. It's Jetfire that's on the bottom, pressed back into the seat by his twin's weight, face contorted into ecstasy as their spark energy crackles around them.

Jetstorm knows exactly what his twin likes, how he likes it, where he likes it - all thanks to their bond. He can't imagine being a Single, a mech without a split spark, a mech who has to go through much of their life alone -

Jetfire's heavier, thicker hands - though certainly no less talented than Jetstorm's own elegant digits - ghost up his back, along his wings, dragging him back to the here and now. In the same way as Jetstorm knows Jetfire perfectly, so does Jetfire know Jetstorm. His wings, heavily laden with sensors for detecting wind currents, quiver under the blazing hot touch of his brother, who knows _exactly_ how to touch, where to touch....

Jetstorm almost loses himself in the sensations, but then he remembers what he agreed to before they even began. He doesn't mind, really. He kind of likes the power trip, even if it _is_ a Decepticon thing, even if a little bit of roleplay in the middle of the bridge isn't the brightest idea either of them have ever had.

He pulls away, making his twin whine in disappointment as the spark energy between them dims. Before Jetfire can move, can try to pull him back down, Jetstorm pins his twin's arms above his head with one hand and cups his chin with the other. None too gently, either, because he's not supposed to be Jetstorm right now, not supposed to refrain from causing harm....

"_Beg_ for it."

Jetfire's optics open, widen with some unidentifiable emotion - fear, surprise? - and Jetstorm can't stop the wave of twisted enjoyment that runs through his mind and the wicked grin that spreads over his face. This is wrong, this is a _Decepticon_ thing - and yet - maybe the Decepticons have it right with just this one thing....

"_Please_. Please, I _need_..." his voice hitches with emotion, his astonishment at the amount of wanton _need_ conveyed though his voice evident. Jetstorm himself is just as astonished, because this is his _brother_, his brash cheeky brother...

The fiery passion and arousal slams through their bond and Jetstorm dimly realizes that that's _cheating_ because they're not supposed to be twins for this little scenario but hey, if Jetfire can play dirty then that means he can too.

Out of character for his role though it may be, Jetstorm decides to try something he's seen those organics do - and so he presses their lips together, roughly, in a comfortable median between the mech he is and the mech he's pretending to be. Jetfire makes a noise that's somewhere between pleasure and pain but Jetstorm can't be bothered to find out which it's closer to because he's somehow managed to tear the thin fleximetal skin covering his twin's lip and the mix of energon and oil somehow tastes _delicious_.

Jetstorm's free hand travels downwards, teasing seams and abnormally sensitive joints, making Jetfire writhe underneath him, their lips still locked together. He makes that same noise, halfway between pleading to stop and pleading for more but Jetstorm ignores it because he's enjoying this _far_ more than he ought to but hey, they're half Decepticon, right? So maybe it's okay.

He moves farther down his twin's frame, biting and licking and kissing as Jetfire shudders and moans, hands half-heartedly trying to free themselves. Then Jetstorm reaches the edge of his brother's wing, slowly trailing the very tip of his glossa along its edge....

And Jetfire's spark chamber explodes open, his spark bathing the bridge in brilliant blue light, light that pulses in time to both of their desires. Jetfire bucks his hips, twists in his twin's grasp, trying ineffectually to pull himself closer to the other half of his spark. Jetstorm doesn't _quite_ feel like giving up, not yet, because seeing Jetfire like this, all unbridled _need_, has set off something inside him, something that wants to keep his twin like this, dancing along the edge of overload....

He dips his hand, teasingly, into the very edge of his twin's spark, and Jetfire _keens_, a high-pitched moan that sends shivers up and down Jetstorm's back strut.

"Aaah! Please, _please_!"

Jetfire bucks his hips again, trying to free his legs so he can wrap them around his twin and pull him close and this time, Jetstorm draws back enough to let him. The reaction is instant; Jetfire's legs snap into place, fitting against Jetstorm's torso perfectly and gripping with enough force to dent the plating. His chest jerks upwards, trying to make the contact he so desperately desires, and Jetstorm does nothing to stop him.

Exposed spark meets heated chestplate and both twins let out a warbling moan, scrabbling for purchase against the smooth chair and each other. Jetstorm can no longer hold himself back, not with _this_ kind of feedback and contact, and so he opens his own spark chamber, the light of both their essences casting the bridge into splashes of sharp contrast between shadow and luminosity.

All is still, their heated frames mashed together, legs entangled and hands grasping at anything they touch.

Jetfire's half-parted lips brush against his twins', optics dim in passion. His lips move, only slightly, only enough to form a name that Jetstorm knows by spark - a name that is not his own.

"_Starscream_."

And he smiles, because all is right in the world, because his twin lusts after one mech but loves another, unwaveringly, with all his spark.

Jetstorm whispers Jetfire's name in return, closes his optics, and follows his twin into shivering, mindless bliss.


End file.
